Hearts Aflame
by serennog
Summary: When Warren Peace returns to Sky High as Coach Boomer's replacement, seemingly broodier than ever, Eva Armstrong: English teacher, resolves to figure him out once and for all. Set approximately ten years after the film. Warren/OC. ON HIATUS.
1. Back To School

**HEARTS AFLAME**

_by_

_serennog_

... ... ...

Summary: When Warren Peace returns to Sky High as Coach Boomer's replacement, seemingly broodier than ever, Eva Armstrong: English teacher, resolves to figure him out once and for all. Set approximately ten years after the film. WarrenOC.

Disclaimer: The characters you recognise are the property of Walt Disney Productions. Those you don't are mine.

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**.:Chapter One – Back to School:.**

As was routine, Sky High's faculty met for a general conference on the Friday prior to the beginning of the new academic year. Normally, these annual meetings were executed with an air of weary disinterest and a tangible longing for a swift conclusion and swifter escape. Today however, Eva Armstrong: English teacher of the school's Alias Sector, was more than a little surprised to find classroom A1 buzzing with anxious expectation rather than the routine drone of idle chit-chat she had long come to associate with these pre-semester assemblies. Eva turned to Professor Medulla, who had kindly offered her a ride in his newly-acquired '57 Fairlane with Jet Control while she awaited the return of her own automobile from a specialist shop in Japan (an offer she suspected was born of the need to show off as opposed to compassion in any shape or form), a single brow raised in query.

"Don't tell me you didn't read the memo?" the scientist adopted his best satirical tone, normally reserved for the dimmer of his students. If she had a fraction more confidence Eva might have given a sarcastic retort, but instead fought back a blush.

"Memo?"

Medulla heaved a long-suffering sigh. "The Coach Boomer fiasco. Ring any bells?"

It clicked then, but apparently her epiphany hadn't come swiftly enough for the professor's satisfaction – he impatiently ushered her into the room, and to one of the few empty seats in the back row.

What Eva had heard regarding Boomer over summer vacation she'd dismissed as rumour, but was quickly realising there might have been more to the gossip than she'd initially thought. What she'd understood was that the Coach had experienced a moment of enlightenment while having suffered a nasty knock to the head during a game of ball with his telekinetic son. From that instant of dazed reflection the man had, by all accounts, decided his job of fifteen years was a complete waste of time, and that resignation was the only way to go. What came after was a muddle of outrageous theories – one being that he'd bought himself a ranch up-State and was currently breeding mutant porcubits (half porcupine – half rabbit).

Whether the story was true, word for word, was a matter of debate, but with a quick scan of the classroom Eva was able to determine that Coach Boomer was the only absent staff-member (and also Principal Powers herself who had, strangely, not yet arrived). Eva pushed her dark-rimmed glasses further up the bridge of her nose as the contemplated the implications of Boomer's abdication – the first and most troubling being: who exactly would supervise Power Placement the following week? Had Principal Powers managed to find a replacement at such short notice?

Apparently not. The woman in question entered the room sporting a particularly grim expression, which Eva took to be a bad omen – and, on noting the same, every teacher hushed down immediately. Eva was certain she would have been able to hear a pin drop.

The Principal sauntered to the front of the class, leaned against the teacher's desk and offered her audience a distinctly strained smile before proceeding with her usual welcome speech followed by a reminder of the impending arrangements for the coming year. The entire spiel deviated only minutely from her talk of a year past. A half hour went by, and no mention was made of the former coach or the now vacant position. Consequently, the majority of staff were growing restless – Eva herself included.

It was at roughly this point that the classroom's door swung open, and every head snapped keenly in its direction. What Eva saw then would be seared into her memory for years to come…

Standing in the doorway was a familiar leather-and-denim clad stud, his handsome, stubbled face betraying no emotion whatsoever – let alone the embarrassment or guilt one would expect of such a blatant example of tardiness.

"Mr Peace." Powers addressed the newcomer with clear disapproval. "You are…" a glance at her wristwatch, "…forty minutes late."

"Transport troubles," he replied, unfazed, and Eva felt her heart skip a beat on hearing that raw baritone voice she had practically fainted over as a schoolgirl. That said, he closed the door and took a seat on the other side of Medulla from herself, legs splayed in such a tantalizing pose that it had a number of the present female body shamelessly ogling. Eva averted her gaze before it could be counted as indecent, nervously twirling a pen between her fingers while struggling to suppress a blush at the recurring mental image of her old classmate lowering that strong, lithe body into a chair. _So not professional_, she inwardly berated herself, returning her attention to Powers.

"Well." The Principal clapped her hands once, eager to continue. "As you've probably already noticed, we have ourselves a new faculty member. Mr Warren Peace – more commonly known as _Blaze_: _Captain Might_'s Companion Hero – will be taking over from Coach Boomer." She needlessly indicated the man with an elegant swipe of the hand. "And Miss Armstrong." Eva very nearly dropped her pen at the unexpected address, but somehow managed to cover her alarm with an inquiring look. "If I correctly recall, the both of you were in the same year while students here?"

Though she couldn't see him, Eva could feel his eyes on her – no doubt an attempt at recognition, but she made no move to satisfy his curiosity, going so far as to tilt her head a fraction so that her hair fell to veil her face. "Yes. Only briefly, however." How she succeeded in keeping her voice level, she would never know.

"Of course." With that, Powers continued the conference, her manner considerably airier than previous.

Throughout the Principal's monologue, Eva occasionally felt her skin crawl through observation, and once dared a quick glance in Warren's direction. As she'd guessed, he was looking – and as earlier, his expression gave absolutely nothing away. What tickled her mind, though, was whether the gossip shrouding _his_ current circumstances were as true as those concerning Boomer…

…and how exactly would she be able to answer the question without incurring his legendary wrath?

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A/N: For those of you just joining us, _Captain Might_ is Will Stronghold (if you hadn't guessed already).


	2. The Elusive Mr Peace

**.:Chapter Two – The Elusive Mr Peace:.**

Disclaimer: Both Faith and Mark (_Centrix_) Armstrong are the property of DC Comics, and subject to much tweaking in this story (my apologies to Comic-Purists).

A/N: To you fifty or so readers who stumbled upon the first chapter before I managed to edit the darn thing, my sincerest apologies. FFN was being a royal pain in the backside (as it is wont to do at times), and wouldn't let me sort out my error for a long while. As a result, you may find yourselves reading the same piece again. The fact that both the first and second chapter were in the SAME section should have alerted you I'd made a right pig's ear of the whole thing. But it's all fixed now, so please continue, and enjoy!

xxx

When the meeting finally concluded, Eva was not surprised to see Warren Peace spring from his seat faster than any teacher present. Neither was she particularly astonished when Medulla informed her he would not be leaving immediately as he wanted to check up on a flaskful of flesh-eating bacteria (the centrepiece of his lab), and would she mind waiting. She didn't, wanting to tack up several new posters for her students' benefit anyway. It was during said task that Eva felt she was being watched – and sure enough, on turning to view the open doorway to her classroom her eyes fell on none other than _Blaze_, who was casually leaned against the doorjamb, penetrating gaze partly hidden by a curtain of red-streaked hair. Eva anxiously swallowed, and almost toppled over as she stepped down from the chair she'd been using to reach a high spot.

"Mr Peace," she greeted, dismayed by the hint of a quaver in her voice. When he'd made no response or movement, Eva approached her desk for something to do and picked up one of the remaining rolled-up posters, ridding the article of its rubber band and unrolling it with the attempted front of the most self-assured woman on the planet. And she might have pulled it off too had she not hastened to fill the uncomfortable silence with pointless chatter. "I thought you'd left. I mean, completely understandable, of course! Most of the faculty can't wait to leave, what with hearing the same lecture annually."

"You're Eva Armstrong." It was a statement – and a one that caught Eva off-guard. She looked up from her apprehensive scrutiny of the poster to find that Warren had advanced into the room. "I remember you."

"Really?" Eva suppressed a wince at the pathetically hopeful note to her tone.

Warren casually shrugged, perused a replica Shakespearian advertisement which dominated the window-side wall. "The non-hero. How could I forget?" His voice held a bitter edge, causing Eva to inwardly bristle – but more than that, the comment (or rather, the manner in which it was spoken) stung. She'd had more than enough of the contempt and pity that had followed her through those two short years she'd been a student at Sky High before her superhero parents had finally conceded there would be no point in furthering her hero education when there had been no sign of a power, sidekick-level or otherwise. She'd been transferred to a human High School after that. To an extent, her powerlessness still earned her a fair amount of unwanted condolence amongst the hero community (not helped by the fact that both her parents – Mark and Faith Armstrong – were once a pair of the greatest superheroes the world had ever known) – but as a teacher, her non-hero status was more easily overlooked.

From what she remembered of her time at Sky High, however, Warren Peace had made absolutely no reference to her lowly station – expressing neither derision nor sympathy - and for his silence she had been inexplicably grateful. But what had changed now?

Emboldened by ire, Eva stuck her nose in the air and pointedly turned her back on her companion, dragging her chair to the front of the class in order to tack the poster she'd been unwittingly crumpling to the wall above the chalkboard. "Genes are strange things, Mr Peace," she stiffly spoke, almost pricking her finger as she assaulted the wall. "But I am what I am – and _no-one_ can change that." She half expected some form of mean retort, but received none. When she looked down, Warren was less than a metre away, sitting on the edge of her desk with arms crossed over his chest, silently watching her. And was that a smile playing at the corner of his lips? As soon as she thought she'd spotted it, his face was neutral again.

"How do you cope?" Eva raised her brows at the pyrokinetic's query, puzzled. Then she remembered the rumours that had been flying around over the summer vacation, and what was possibly the reason behind his current job placement. She decided to try and bait him.

"Why do you ask?"

Warren scowled, avoiding her gaze. "Forget it."

His reaction only served to feed her curiosity, however, and she persisted, vaguely wondering whether she had a death wish. "You've lost your powers, right? That's why you're here." She was startled when Warren stood and punched the chalkboard just a little beyond her hip, leaving a dent on its dark surface.

"Just forget it," he growled, sparing her a warning glare before turning on his heel and sweeping out of the classroom.

Eva faintly thought she should apologise, but was too dazed to move let alone speak, heartbeat thundering in her ears. Instead, she blinked owlishly at the doorway where she'd last caught a glimpse of leather and denim…

xxx

Warren's blood boiled, and he itched to sabotage an article of cheerful school property with a particularly large fireball as he hurried along sunlit corridors. But couldn't. A fact that had absolutely nothing to do with restraint, and _everything_ to do with Eva's observation. He purposely strode towards the school's double entry doors, swinging them open with unnecessary brute force, and consequently nearly tearing them off their hinges as well as making ruckus enough to alert the earth several miles below. For an instant, he eyed his motorcycle parked alongside Medulla's swanky new ride, its chrome trimmings reflecting the afternoon sun, but ultimately settled for staying a while and made a b-line for the nearest wall where he promptly sat with an agitated huff.

From the depths of his jacket's pocket Warren drew a loose cigarette, and glanced both left and right before withdrawing a lighter also. It was with helpless abhorrence that he flicked the zippo's lid, missing the warm tingle of a flame at his fingertip more than he'd care to outwardly admit. A sensation he suspected he'd never feel again. Job done, he swiftly slipped the device back into his pocket and took a long drag, subsequently sighing on the exhale in weary defeat rather than relief.

He loathed this – with every fibre of his being. This… _helplessness_. It seemed a lifetime ago that he'd not had any powers at all, and had despised that vulnerability even then. But having had a taste of his superhero abilities only made his current situation that much worse.

_It's true what they say_, Warren inwardly mused, _you don't miss what you've never had_. His thoughts drifted to Eva, and he winced on recalling that spark of fear in her eyes as he'd taken out his frustration on the chalkboard. _But it was __**her**__ fault_, he hastened to reassure himself, _for pressing like she did. Did the moron expect you to spill your guts?_ Needless to say, gut-spilling was definitely not a practice Warren Peace was disposed to. Even after befriending Will, he'd kept his troubles mainly to himself, and preferred the bottling over tearful confessions followed by group-hugs and tea. Even now: almost a decade later. Not to say he didn't trust Will (Lord knows _Captain Might_ had saved his ass on numerous occasions, and he'd had more than one chance to return the favour), but he'd never been particularly communicative – a firm believer that his problems were his own, not meant to be shared, and a leopard couldn't very well change its spots.

Sticking the cigarette back in his mouth, Warren ripped off the studded cuff that encompassed his left wrist and gazed dejectedly at the line of puckered, raw flesh just below his palm, clenching his fingers at the unpleasant memory of blistering skin. Despite his tolerance of heat and his invulnerability, the red-hot poker had left its mark in more than the corporeal sense. His Achilles' heel… He looked away, swallowing down bile and took another lengthy drag to settle his stomach.

"You know, smoking is prohibited on school grounds." He didn't look up at Principal Powers' remark, and made no move to put out his cigarette. She sighed, her shadow on the grass indicating she'd taken a seat beside him.

"I realise this is difficult for you, Warren – but think of it as a fresh start. And besides, you were always so formidable as a student here. I suspect you'll enjoy scaring the kids."

Warren snorted, twirled the white stick between his fingers. "Without my powers?"

"Oh, they needn't know." Ms Powers' voice had lowered a notch, taking on a conspirational note. "In fact, your situation is a topic of speculation. You keep up your bad-boy routine, and they'll be none the wiser."

He said nothing for a moment, briefly set his cigarette between his lips before finally voicing his worry. "Eva knows." And if she knew, who else did?

"She's always been so receptive – for a non-hero," Powers wistfully informed, pausing as she seemingly reminisced events long past. "At one time we'd hoped she'd inherited her mother's telepathy, but…" she left the comment hanging, and Warren did his best to ignore the pang in his gut. He knew little of the woman, save for the fact she'd been as much an outcast as he himself. Eva Armstrong: the disappointment. The powerless daughter of _Faith_ and _Centrix_, who were possibly the greatest heroes of their time – rivalled only by the Strongholds. Great things were expected of her, and the pressure had shown. More than once he'd passed her sniffling at her locker with face hidden behind its door.

He briefly wondered why she'd decided to launch herself back into the hero-world, when all it had seemed to give her was grief…

Again, the Principal sighed, clapped Warren lightly on the shoulder. "Get yourself home, Mr Peace. I'll see you Monday morning." He simply nodded as she rose and left. When he was certain Powers was a fair distance off, he turned his head to watch her enter the school building.

'_Fresh start' she says_…

Warren thoughtfully scrutinised the last of his cigarette before pressing it into the dirt and replacing his left cuff. He stood, dusting off the butt of his jeans.

…_And what do I have to lose?_

xxx

As soon as she'd recovered sufficiently from Warren's outburst (which had taken a fair few minutes), Eva had searched the entire school for him, hoping to extend the proverbial olive branch. Unfortunately, there was no sign of him, and by the time she'd given up Medulla was ready to leave.

She spent the ride home staring glumly out the car's window at passing clouds, inwardly cursing herself for her loose tongue. Medulla made no effort to speak with her, and probably didn't even realise anything was amiss if the way he was humming along to the radio was any indication (he may possess the highest IQ on record, but when it came to fellow man it seemed he was completely clueless). On reaching her house, Eva plastered a smile on her face and thanked her work colleague before jumping out of the car and ducked in through the front door before Medulla's Fairlane had turned the corner four houses over. Sighing, she threw her large shoulder bag into a cluttered corner of the foyer and set her keys on a nearby table with a clatter. Her gaze drifted to the answering machine on that same table, its small red light blinking in indication of a message or two. She hit the play button.

"_Hey doll – it's Kate_." Eva couldn't help but smile at the chirpy cadence of her old school-friend's voice. "_The girls and I were wondering if you'd want to join us tomorrow night before semester starts. Loosen up a little before going back to work. Let me know, 'kay? Bye!_" Eva wrinkled her nose, not particularly up for a night out, and decided then she'd call back with a polite refusal. A brush against her lower legs drew her attention to the floor where a Burmese cat was zealously twirling number eights around her ankles, causing Eva to momentarily grin.

"Hey Tibbs. You missed me?" The cat stopped her movements, glanced up at her mistress with large golden eyes and meowed. Eva laughed, scooping up the animal and occupied herself by scratching behind its ears while listening to the next message.

"_Eva – it's your mother. Just to let you know I've found some of those old school notes you thought you'd lost…_" There was a grumbling retort in the background. "_Sorry – that your __**father**__ found. Come around whenever you're free, alright? Just give us a call and dad will come get you with the pick-up. I hate you going about on that old bicycle…_" Eva rolled her eyes as the lecture began. "_You know how reckless drivers are these days. I just hope they hurry up with your car. It's already been a week…_" a sigh, as though the pre-recorded voice was completely aware of Eva's building irritation. "_Okay – I'll leave you now. Love you, honey._"

Eva glanced at the wall-mounted Quartz. Four-thirty pm. If she could grab those notes tonight, she'd be able to incorporate them into her teaching scheme over the weekend. She hesitated, unsure of whether being in her parents' company – her mother's especially – as flashes of her confrontation with Warren Peace cropped up at regular intervals was such a great idea. Faith Armstrong would doubtless pry (it was her nature, after all). But then, her head was in such a state that perhaps a little heart-to-heart would be of benefit. And some advice on how to approach the tetchy pyrokinetic (or _former_ pyrokinetic if his reaction was any clue) in their working environment would be welcome also.

Resolute in her final decision, Eva called on Kate to refuse her invitation before heading upstairs to change out of her teacher's get-up. She paused as her head popped through her favourite baggy t-shirt, gaze having fallen on her vanity mirror where several newspaper cut-outs had been tucked securely behind the frame. Most involved her parents – articles on the commendable deeds Eva had been particularly proud of. Three, however, were centred on _Blaze_. Almost warily, Eva approached the vanity and sat, leaned forward to gingerly caress the first: a write-up on Warren's heroic debut back in '08, accompanied by a photograph of his introductory speech. She'd known it was him from first glance, although it had been strange to see the jeans and jacket replaced by spandex. That mane of glossy hair, on the other hand, along with russet skin and plump, solemn-set lips had been unmistakeable.

The second documented his and _Captain Might_'s rescue of orphans at the Crestside Homes, who had been taken hostage by _Mirage_ in a last ditch effort to take over Maxville. All escaped unscathed, and _Mirage_ finally got her comeuppance: life at Barnabus Penitentiary, with no hope of parole. What had moved her most about the piece was the larger of the accompanying pictures: Warren attempting to console a young curly-haired girl, whose dark eyes were large and terrified as they gazed up at him. He knelt before her, a hand on her shoulder: comforting.

The third and final article was also the latest: its headline a beacon. **BARRON BATTLE DEAD?** It was the vaguest. A vastly fabricated account of the final showdown between the escaped super-villain, and Warren and Will Stronghold. Its conclusion had seen the complete destruction of a warehouse by flame, and while Will had assured the media that Battle had been killed, there had been no proof left at the end of it. _Captain Might_ had refused to make any further comment, and had been witnessed assisting a battered Warren from the scene. That was two months ago.

Eva sighed before tugging the papers from their perches and throwing them into a drawer, out of sight. She couldn't say why she'd kept them, but now that Warren Peace looked set to be a regular fixture in her humdrum life, she felt suddenly dirty for having taken a small measure of delight and security in their perusal, while the latter article had served more as a means to sate her horrified curiosity relating to his ambiguous circumstances (with very little success). Eva didn't consider herself obsessive or stalkerish in any sense – although she now conceded her private show of admiration may have come across as such. She liked him; idolized him, along with every other girl or woman with half a brain. There was nothing terribly abnormal about it. People had their favourite hero as they had their favourite soccer player, or favourite band-member. But for she: the subdued and sensible Eva Armstrong, to engage in such a mindless pursuit… She shook her head, inwardly berating herself for acting like a lovesick teenager.

With the evidence of her veneration safely stashed away, Eva left her bedroom and descended the stairs, sparing her cat one last scratch behind the ears before retrieving '_that old bicycle_' from her garage. The ride to her parents' home would give her opportunity enough to bridle her fly-away thoughts, as well as subdue all memories of the telling articles.

xxx

"Hey dad," Eva greeted as Mark Armstrong opened the door to her childhood home.

"Nice to see you, pumpkin." As was custom, he enveloped her in a massive bear-hug before allowing her entrance, gaze darting to the vintage Dutch Ute she'd propped against the garage wall. "But I think you mother'll have your hide."

Eva faintly smiled. "I can handle her."

He smirked, knowing all too well that his wife was not so easily swayed – not even by their own daughter. "Good luck. She's in the kitchen." Sure enough, Faith Armstrong was indeed slaving away over a hot stove, looking significantly more ruffled than usual and seeming less than pleased when she turned to view her daughter standing in the doorway.

"Don't tell me you rode that death-trap over?" she queried, hands-on-hips in the usual derogatory-parent stance.

"Nice to see you too," answered Eva teasingly. At that, her mother's irritated mien fell away, and her lips quirked in the hint of a smile.

"But seriously," Eva continued, taking a seat at the kitchen table. "My car won't be back for another two weeks at the very least – what with the shipping on top of everything else." Her little Volkswagen bug simply didn't have sufficient fuel capacity for a full flight from the States to Japan – let alone the journey back.

Faith sighed, taking the chair opposite her daughter. "I just wish you'd hire temporary transport from the HTA." Hero Transport Agency. These were the guys who supplied flightless superheroes with a more artifical means of conveyance – or in Eva's case, provided transport for any trustworthy individual with a valid standing in the hero world. She had managed to gather enough money, primarily in the form of her grandmother's inheritance (from which her current residence had come), to claim the bug as her own with the HTA's permission. But to hire another vehicle in the meantime she feared she'd be unable to afford – especially with consideration to the inevitable bill from Japan. She voiced her concerns for her mother's benefit, though suspected she'd discerned the worries by merely reading Eva's eyes. Faith took her hands, gave them a consoling squeeze.

"Your father and I could help you out."

Eva shook her head. "I couldn't ask that. Besides – you're busy renovating the house." She'd caught the scent of fresh paint on the way in, as well as the tell-tale splattered sheets on the floor of the upstairs landing. "And I've asked Professor Medulla. He doesn't mind. The house is on his route, and I think he really enjoys showing off the Fairlane." She smiled, yet could easily feel it was strained, and was not surprised when her mother deigned to comment.

"But there's something else."

Eva studied their joined hands for a moment, setting her thoughts into some form of coherent sequence before daring to meet Faith's eyes. Her mother drank in the information with a mildly bemused expression.

"Warren Peace? Barron Battle's son?"

Eva simply nodded.

"Well…" her mother mused, blue eyes sparkling with faint amusement. "This _is_ an interesting development. Don't think I've forgotten your teenage fascination with the boy. You may have thought those questions were subtle, but I'm telling you now they were far from it."

"Mom!" Eva admonished, feeling her treacherous face flush.

Faith smiled briefly before her expression turned serious. "So the rumours are true, then?"

Eva averted her gaze with a shrug. "Can't figure how he came to lose his powers…"

"Some form of power-cancellation – or so talk goes. Fire against fire couldn't have boded well." Eva heard her mother sigh. "One thing's certain: the world's lost a fine young hero. But at least the school has a worthy new addition."

Eva gave a weak smile, grateful for her mother's attempt at pointing out the good in the situation. "Yeah. But I think we got off at the wrong foot…"

"Nothing a good, old-fashioned apology won't settle," Faith declared, patting her daughter's hand before rising to check on the casserole bubbling away in the oven. "And you'll be staying for dinner, I take it?"

"When your tuna caserole's involved, how can I possibly resist?" She'd worry of the possible hazards linked with an attempt at apologizing to the short-tempered new Coach once she'd eaten her fill.


	3. Birds of a Feather

**.:Chapter Three: Birds of a Feather:.**

Monday arrived all too quickly for Miss Eva Armstrong: English teacher – and honestly, she was inwardly grateful for having failed to find the elusive new coach prior to first period despite her genuine efforts. After all, she had the sneaking suspicion he was not a morning person, and his noon mood had been terrifying enough. Eva resolved to conclude her mission during lunch break.

Little did she know that Fate had other ideas…

As was her custom for the first day of the new academic year, Eva decided to take it easy on her classes – and on the freshman class in particular, who stumbled into the room at third period with heads hanging, no doubt having expected the school to be wholly training-oriented. They did perk up a little when she slipped the 1996 film 'Romeo and Juliet' into the VCR on her classroom's ancient TV. Well… the girls more than the boys (apparently, even after all these years, ol' Leo hadn't lost his sex appeal).

Asking the students to take note of the modernisations on Shakespeare's illustrious tragedy, Eva stepped out of the class to make a few photocopies of an old question sheet. When she returned, it was to the sound of girly giggles and the occasional moan emanating from the battered television, and the sight of every boy present ogling said piece of technology while ignoring their female classmates' outraged squeals. Looking to the TV herself, Eva gasped and dropped her papers, horrified at the sight of two bikini-clad bimbos wrestling in a paddling pool full of what appeared to be strawberry jello. She dashed to the wall and unplugged the device, which meekly popped and fell silent.

Eva heaved a quavering breath in an attempt to rein in her embarrassment and temper before turning to the class, eyeing every single student critically. "Alright…" Her voice was low. Deceptively composed, yet dangerous all the same. "Who did this?" It could only have been someone with a power involving the manipulation of transmissions, as she knew for a fact that her museum-escapee-of-a-TV could not pick up any channel due to the school's location, and was used solely for video-watching. A number of boys looked sheepish, but none had the courage to admit.

"Just because I don't have a list of your powers yet doesn't mean I won't find out who did this," Eva informed the students, arms crossed over her chest in a take-no-bull stance. "And when I do, it's a week's detention for the adult channel alone -- two for using your powers outside of gym. Own up now, and I might be moved to reduce the sentence to one week only." Her compromise was met with an oppressive silence. Eva sighed, mightily disappointed by the freshman class. "Alright then. Nobody – and I mean _nobody_ – leaves this class. I'm going directly to Coach Peace to find out each of your powers." Her exit was intentionally leisured, but again, no-one jumped to confess.

It was only as she stepped out of the Civilian History class across the hall, having requested her colleague keep an eye on her students, that she realised exactly what she was getting herself into, and internally prayed to whichever deity chanced to be listening that Warren Peace had cooled off since their encounter on Friday.

She strode in the gym's direction with the air of a convicted felon facing his doom…

xxx

Upon finally entering the gym, Eva was somewhat surprised to see the sophomore sidekick class executing various defensive manoeuvres with a near-professionalism that had been seriously lacking in both the former Coach's and Mr Boy's sessions of the year before. What was considerably more astonishing was the sight of an empty high chair where Boomer had practically been glued to the thing. Consequently, it took a while for her to locate Warren amidst the jumping, tumbling, writhing bodies – and when she did, her breath hitched.

The new Coach was slowly weaving his way between the students, occasionally nodding his approval, or touching a kid on the shoulder and proffering a few short words of advice. But what had caught Eva's attention was not his teaching – but his physical appearance. His hair was pulled back in a short ponytail, revealing a handsomely angular and clean-shaven face. A plain white wifebeater clung to his torso, laying bare muscular, tanned arms and hinting at taut abs, while the black sweatpants on his lower half came across as strangely modest in comparison. He'd stopped before a student who'd lost her balance in attempting a sidekick, and Eva could almost read his lips as he told her to concentrate. The girl, back on her feet, seemed to be pleading her case, and Eva was more than a little abashed when she pointed in her direction.

Warren's dark eyes met Eva's from across the gymnasium, registering the briefest flicker of surprise as they fell on her. She attempted a smile, but suspected it looked more like a grimace, so tried to save herself further humiliation by gazing anywhere but at him. Namely at her shoes. She heard him inform the whole class in that fever-inducing voice of his that he had to step out a moment and that they should continue practicing. Within half a minute, Eva caught sight of a pair of vintage Adidas sneakers which squeaked ominously against the polished floorboards before halting a foot or so from her concealed toes.

"Armstrong?"

She tentatively raised her head. As she did so, he crossed his arms, and Eva fought not to gulp as she noted how those muscles seemed to flow beneath copper skin.

"I…" Her voice broke. She lightly cleared her throat and tried again, gaze fixed on a point beyond his left shoulder. "I was wondering if I could look at the original freshman list. I haven't had my copy yet – Alias Sector's always the last to know, what with the civilian classing system..." Oh God, she was gushing.

Eva caught a dark brow ascend and met his gaze without thinking. Thankfully, he didn't look as irritated as she'd imagined he would. Just mildly curious, and fighting to school his features into something resembling nonchalance. "Any particular reason why?" Despite his query, Warren motioned for Eva to follow him into the adjoining office that every previous Sky High Coach had claimed as his own.

"Uh…" Eva nervously brushed back an escaped lock of hair as she stepped into the small, cluttered room. "Long story short, I need to find out the kids' powers so I can put one of them in detention."

Warren merely grunted a response, engrossed in his task of sifting through the papers coating his desk. Eva turned to the gym-side window when she was certain the Coach wouldn't grasp the fading potential for conversation, watching as half the students continued their training while the rest were either sitting on the multi-coloured mats, chatting, or glancing subtly her way with their gossip radars on obvious high alert. She sent the latter a warning glare.

"Here." Eva startled slightly when a clip-board entered her line of vision. She gave Warren her thanks, but he'd already turned his back on her – rifling through the mess on his disaster-zone masquerading as a desk for Lord only knew what. She watched a moment as his shoulder-blades shifted beneath his top with a decidedly heavy feeling in her gut that she couldn't quite place (or rather, didn't care to) before turning jerkily away to peruse the list he'd given her. Her index finger paused on the most likely culprit – a Gary Johnson, sidekick. As she'd suspected, his power was transmissions manipulation. "Oh, Gary. You are in _so_ much trouble."

Eva was surprised to hear a snort, and looked up to find her companion now facing her, half-sitting on the edge of his desk and smirking at her. She flushed and fixed her gaze elsewhere. There was a pretty interesting calendar hanging from a crude little hook on the wall, depicting a sleek cherry-red car she couldn't name.

"Wouldn't want to be _your_ student." Was he teasing her? She discreetly glanced at him through her lashes, and realised that yes: maybe his smirk was more softly mocking than downright condescending. Whatever the case, Eva was quick to change the subject.

"Speaking of – you seem to be doing well." She indicated the gym with the clipboard. "With the teaching."

He shrugged but said nothing, and Eva couldn't tell if he was being modest or impassive. She decided then it was high time to skedaddle.

"Well, thank you Mr Peace." She gave him back the lists. "I think I'd better leave you to your lesson." As she reached the door, Eva remembered her mother's advice and turned back to Warren, almost smashing into his firm chest as she did so. She'd not heard him follow her, but he'd probably been ready to hold the door as she exited. "I… um…" He was so close she could smell his cologne – exotic; spicy – and it was driving her to distraction. The Coach took a step back. As soon as he did so, some of her thoughts came scampering back. "What I mean to say is… sorry. About Friday. I shouldn't have pried…" She finished on a meek shrug and smile. His face, now that she looked at it, was devoid of any emotion.

"No. You shouldn't have," he said at length. The neutrality of his voice and expression was unnerving. Eva didn't know what she'd been expecting, but it wasn't this. The same anger she'd witnessed on Friday, maybe. Yet his face was strangely stiff as he gazed down at her. Even his eyes were guarded. At a loss, Eva nodded before turning to leave. If she'd had the nerve to look over her shoulder, she'd have found those obsidian eyes fixed on her, narrowed by a furrowed brow as the Coach ostensibly replayed their undulated interaction in his mind.

xxx

Gary was sent to the Principal's office and sentenced to two weeks' detention – and no amount of tears would move Ms. Powers (although Eva herself did feel a little bad… until she remembered he hadn't confessed when he'd been given the chance. Multiple times). After that, lessons ran relatively smoothly, leaving Eva with far too much time to reflect on Warren's earlier conduct. Was she forgiven? Was he still angry with her? He'd seemed genial enough until she'd gone ahead and apologised – almost as though he'd forgotten all about Friday. Oh, what if she'd put her foot in it? He'd behaved so oddly after she'd come out with a 'sorry' that she was starting to wish she'd never taken her mother's advice. But it was an issue that would have had to be faced at some point. They could hardly have gone on pretending that Eva had never insulted him with her unrestrained curiosity. It was nice to think that it could have been possible, but no.

Lunch rolled around quickly, and Eva inwardly rejoiced at the chance to distract herself with food and conversation (Medulla's explanations regarding his latest experiments never ceased to enthral her – so far a cry as it all was from ordinary High School science). So she grabbed herself some sandwiches, a fruit juice and a granola bar, and scanned the faculty table for a familiar large, bald head. She found Medulla easily enough, but paused on approaching when she saw he was in a deep discussion with a woman she didn't recognise.

"…so I said 'why?', and _he_ thought I meant an extra 'Y' chromosome!" the Professor chortled. Okay. Maybe not quite so deep a discussion as Eva had initially thought. She was surprised to hear the jet-haired woman sitting opposite him laugh (genuinely) and bat his arm.

"Ai! You're so _funny_!"

"Oh, Miss Armstrong." Medulla smiled up at her and indicated the empty seat beside him. "Come meet the new nurse." Hesitantly, Eva sat, smiling unsurely at the other woman. The nurse's smile was broad and, Eva was pleased to note, completely bona fide. "This is Lucia Lazarus. Lucia, meet Eva."

"Eva. It's a pleasure." She spoke with a mild foreign accent that Eva couldn't identify, but decided she liked very much. It made her alto voice richer somehow.

"Hi. Uh…" Eva was aware of frowning at the woman ever so slightly through her confusion, but tried to soften her features when Lucia's own expression changed, hinting at a little anxiety. "I didn't notice you at the meeting Friday." In fact, she'd completely forgotten about the previous nurse's resignation – distracted as she'd been by the Boomer dilemma. Plus her speedy head-count had come up with no anomaly besides the blatantly obvious.

Smile returned, Lucia swiped a dismissive hand through the air as though to dispel the momentary awkwardness. "Oh, I was there. Front row." She leaned in closer to the table, like she was suddenly speaking in confidence. Eva didn't miss Medulla mimicking the gesture a tad too eagerly. "Got myself a nice view of the new Coach."

"Ah, yes." Medulla sat back, visibly deflated. Lucia didn't seem to notice.

"So – you two were at school together?"

Eva here made a point to remove her sandwiches from their pack to avoid eye contact. "Two years, yes." She attempted to change the subject by asking after the nurse's origins, and was inwardly relieved when Lucia took the bait.

"Ah, yes. I'm Italian. I attended the European Academy."

"The Alps, right?"

"Correct." Lucia nodded and grinned, then abruptly stopped as she spotted something over Eva's shoulder. "Oh look! It's _him_…" Eva thought she knew very well who _he_ was, but glanced furtively behind her regardless. There stood Warren, newly out of the lunch line and looking around for a vacant spot to eat. She tried ignoring the tug in her chest when she took note of the long-sleeved tee he'd donned since that morning, which hid his hard, bronzed arms from view.

Medulla slumped a little further in his seat when he'd discerned exactly who had captured the nurse's attention.

"Coach Peace!" called Lucia. Eva whirled to face her, not quite believing what she was hearing. "Won't you join us?" Nope. She'd heard right. Eva unconsciously held her breath as she wondered what the Coach would do. Make his excuses and sit somewhere secluded, most likely. So she was surprised (and faintly thrilled – a feeling duly overlooked) when he claimed the space opposite her, but tried hard not to show it. She concentrated on her food, even as her stomach shied at the prospect of eating.

"I'm Lucia Lazarus – the new school nurse," Lucia cheerfully introduced herself. "You know Professor Medulla and Eva, of course." Eva bobbed a curt nod of greeting, spared him a quick glance, and returned to tearing her sandwiches just as quickly. She'd barely had time to register his dark gaze on her.

"What have you got there?" Eva vaguely saw Lucia pick up a book from Warren's tray. "_Dune_…" Eva almost choked on her juice. "Is it any good?"

"It depends on your preference."

"Um… it's science fiction," Eva quietly explained when Warren made no attempt to elaborate. She proceeded to focus on Lucia alone. "If you like that kind of thing."

"Ah. A civilian novel, then? I enjoy hero crime novels myself."

"Snap!" cried Medulla a little too enthusiastically. He was instantly mortified by his own lack of finesse. "What I mean to say is: science fiction is our science fact. What's the point of it?"

"It might not be a new concept to us now," Eva started – her gentle yet even tone of voice a warning to all who knew her that a lecture was well underway. Medulla noticeably steeled himself. "But _Dune_ was one of the first of its kind, and way ahead of its time. You can really feel that when you read it…" She trailed off, aware that the company was staring at her: Medulla with a sceptical brow raised, Lucia with a hint of a smile, and Warren… His gaze was intense and unfathomable, causing Eva to hastily avert her own eyes with a blush. She shrugged. "Besides. Where do you think the planet Arrakis got its name?"

Lucia laughed gaily. "Well, you've certainly sold me." But she gave Warren back his book in spite of the comment, making Eva wonder if she was only being polite.

"Did the kid get detention?"

Eva blinked – stumped by the sudden change of topic – at the man across from her, while he looked intently back. Well. He was speaking to her, which was a good sign.

"Detention?" Lucia perked up, glancing from Eva to Warren and back so rapidly that she could have been following the ball at a tennis match. "Do tell!"

Eva's flush returned full force. She shrugged in an attempt at nonchalance. "Just general misbehaviour. You know…" Lucia wasn't satisfied with that particular answer. Whether Warren was or not, he didn't show it. He'd moved to unscrew the cap off his water bottle, which was taking far more concentration than necessary.

"Go on. What happened?"

Eva sighed… and told.

"You were far too lenient, Eva," sniffed Medulla after Lucia's laughter had subsided into hiccups. "Why, if _I'd_ done something like that-"

"You'd have been roped to the back of a horse and carriage and dragged on a full circuit of the school grounds twenty times," inserted Lucia – much to Eva's horror – and spared the Professor a pointedly disapproving look. Astonishingly, Medulla cast his eyes down to the half-eaten casserole on his tray and said nothing, where he'd have given as good as he got if anyone else had dared talk down to him like that. Eva even thought he looked a little grieved – possibly by the implication of age.

He was smitten. That was for certain.

"_I_ think you did very well, Eva," Lucia cheerfully but firmly assured. "I was put into detention for less, I can tell you! What do you say, Warren?" The Coach twitched at the address. The closest the pyrokinetic got to startling, Eva supposed. And it was one of those apparently rare occasions that his marble-adonis façade melted into a semblance of human expression. This time, his face registered mild surprise as he first regarded Lucia, then turned to Eva. He seemed to catch himself then, features wiped clean like a slate.

His dark eyes bore into her as he took a fry and popped it in his mouth – the chewing, Eva distantly thought, probably reflected his rumination of a response. She couldn't look away.

Finally, he spoke.

"How's the chalk board?"

Overwhelmed by yet another screeching u-turn in their conversation (as well as his stare), Eva opened and closed her mouth at least a dozen times in rapid succession before she eventually came out with an answer.

"Fine." Her voice cracked, so she coughed and tried again. "Fine. Functional. Just fine, thank you."

He nodded and returned his attention to his food – but not before Eva glimpsed something briefly flicker in his eyes. It was in that instant that she realised the unexpected comment had been his roundabout way of apologising…

Eva studiously ignored the questioning look sent to her by Lucia, and followed Warren's example. Lord knew if she didn't need the distraction offered by soggy chicken sandwiches, she definitely needed the energy they provided. Something told her the afternoon would be a long one.

xxx

A/N: For those of you who don't know: 'Dune' by Frank Herbert was first published in 1965 and was "the first bestselling hardcover science fiction novel" (Wikipedia). 'Arrakis' was the name of the desert planet central to the saga, and was also known as 'Dune'.

Ah… uhm… yes. This rewrite is starting to deviate significantly from the original… Same general plot but… wow.

There's a link to a picture of Lucia up on my profile page if you're interested.


	4. One Step Forward, Two Steps Back

**.:Chapter Four – One Step Forward, Two Steps Back:.**

On her way to Medulla's lab at the end of the school day, Eva was accosted by none other than Principal Powers with a topic that the English teacher had been uneasily anticipating at intervals throughout the day.

"Eva, as you know, Homecoming's in three weeks. I hope you'll be able to lend a helping hand…?"

She was so tempted to say 'no'. There were a million other things Eva would have preferred over dispensing fruit punch or cheese cubes (depending on the stall assigned) all evening, but she had always been one of the few teachers lacking the balls to refuse and the quick-thinking to come up with a decent excuse.

"Of course," she said instead, forcing her lips into a smile.

"Great!" Powers enthused. "I knew I could count on you." _Of course you did_, thought Eva a little sourly, but instantly gave herself a mental rebuke. It was hardly the Principal's fault that there were so few helpers to be had. "Oh, and since I've found you, I'll hand this over." Powers removed the top sheet of the paper pile she was clutching, and held it aloft for Eva to take. Hesitantly, the younger woman accepted it. "I was just checking on Warren, and he was kind enough to print the freshman list out for the Alias Sector staff before schedule. I'll have to slip the rest in the teachers' cubby holes."

Eva blinked down at the extensive table in her hands while something stirred in the pit of her stomach. Had he done this for her sake? _No_. She shook her head to emphasize the thought. That was just wishful thinking. She was sure he'd have done the same for any Alias teacher to experience some trouble with the freshman class. For all his brooding silence and short temper, Warren Peace had a heart of gold – to which his glittering career as one half of Maxville's top heroic duo was testament. And she was hardly liable to any special treatment in spite of their lunchtime conciliation.

"Eva!" She glanced up from her scrutiny of the sheet to find Lucia Lazarus approach. "Principal." The nurse nodded respectably to Powers on reaching them.

"Nurse Lazarus," Powers greeted in turn. "How was your first day?"

Eva caught Lucia shrug as she carefully slipped her freshman list between the covers of a binder in her bag. "Acid burns, a broken ankle and temporary blindness. Can't complain."

"You just wait 'til Save the Citizen starts next week," warned Powers with a wink. "I'll see you ladies tomorrow." After exchanging goodbyes, Lucia wove an arm around Eva's as though they were lifelong friends, and leaned in close with a conspirational smile. It was incredibly forward, but Eva decided she liked the nurse enough that she didn't mind so much as she might have if it were any other almost-stranger. It was evident Lucia was a fairly pert individual, in an almost innocent kind of way. Unintentionally brazen. Which was more than Eva had ever dreamed of being.

But it was that smile that worried her…

"So. What was all that about at lunch?"

Eva regarded the other woman with raised brows. "What do you mean?" As she spoke, Eva suddenly thought that perhaps she had known Lucia's meaning after all. Her cheeks began to warm.

"You and Warren Peace!" _Bingo!_ "Is there something going on that I should know about?"

Eva shook her head and directed her gaze straight ahead, doing her best to elude Lucia's prying eyes. "No. Of course not." She paused, registering the faint ache an outward acknowledgment of the impossibility had stirred. She almost laughed at herself. _Stupid, unthinkable infatuation. Like he'd look at you twice…_ "I haven't seen him in nearly ten years…" she feebly finished.

"He kept staring at you." Lucia was adamant, all hint of her earlier teasing gone. Eva looked at her companion in surprise, wondering when the conversation had turned serious, then mentally scoffed. Her and Warren? If he _had_ been staring, it was more than likely down to her odd behaviour. Eva was nothing if not a peculiarity. Such was the downside of her diffidence. She could make a fool of herself easier than Medulla could theorize a wormhole on paper.

The small flare of hope in her gut was promptly ignored.

"It's a trait," Eva explained, remembering his habit of glowering at certain peers. "He does that." Why did she get the feeling she was trying to convince herself as much as the inquisitive nurse?

Lucia sighed and her hold loosened as she apparently gave up. "Where are you off to?"

Eva tried hard to hide her relief. "Professor Medulla's lab. He's my taxi service right now."

"No car?"

"It's in the shop."

"Ah." Lucia was silent a moment, then haltingly resumed. "That's… nice of him."

Eva decided not to comment on Medulla's vanity with regards to his car. "Yeah. Nice."

"So." Lucia stopped in her tracks, forcing Eva to do the same. "I must love you and leave you. I'll see you tomorrow."

"Okay." Eva watched as the beaming nurse exited the school building, her shiny raven hair bouncing with each step. The woman was something else. Although Eva had to admit it was nice having someone to talk to at school besides Medulla and the Principal. Most of the faculty were friendly enough, but had never made the effort or even seemed to _want_ to get to know her better. Not that she found herself lamenting the fact. It was just that clinging to her professional façade all day long got pretty tiring, and some trivial conversation every now and then would prove a welcome respite.

A sudden thought struck her. What if Lucia would agree to help her with the upcoming Homecoming Ball? It would make the whole thing a lot more bearable if she had someone to keep her company. But she had a feeling that assistance in that arena was not something the nurse would easily agree to. Not that Eva could really blame her.

Sighing, Eva turned from the doors and continued on her way to Medulla's Hero Sector laboratory.

The last thing she expected was for someone to plough into her on the corner.

--

If Coach Boomer had still been around, Warren guessed he'd have been on the receiving end of one hell of a lecture. Firstly, he'd almost lost his balance on impact with whoever had rounded the corner, sending his bike keys flying in an effort to stay on his feet. But worse than that, he'd been so absorbed in his own little world that he hadn't heard the other person's footfalls until it was too late. To his credit though, he'd made no sound for all the air knocked from his lungs, and regained his balance with the grace and speed of a feline. His unwitting assailant wasn't quite so practised, stumbling back several steps before catching herself from falling flat on her backside, leaving behind the faintest trace of lavender.

Eva Armstrong.

He distantly thought that the lightning-fast recognition should have worried him, but was too caught up in watching her scramble for his keys with a stuttered apology, never meeting his eyes until she offered back the jingling object – at which point her own eyes widened with equal parts surprise and anxiety, like a doe who'd found herself on the wrong end of a shotgun with no hope of escape. He didn't know whether to be amused or offended, so settled for impassive, and with a calm he didn't know he possessed, took the proffered keys before she could drop them. This only seemed to disturb Eva further.

"I…ah…" She glanced away, swiping hair behind her ear in what Warren was beginning to learn was a nervous reaction. "Sorry. Again. I really should… watch where I'm going." She was looking everywhere but at him, and he found himself wondering for what felt like the hundredth time that day why she was so skittish in his presence. Was she afraid of him? With all the rumours flying around in relation to his showdown with Battle, Warren decided the theory wasn't completely unreasonable. And for some reason beyond him, the possibility sparked an emotion that, had he stopped to truly acknowledge it, he'd have described as borderline disappointment.

Instead of answering with a few reassuring words as any other person would, or even with a snappish retort, Warren only sniffed and made a show of twirling the keys around his index finger. While doing so, he subtly watched Eva from beneath his thick lashes. Thinking herself safe from his scrutiny, he saw her blue eyes dart to his face before she averted them and adjusted the strap of her satchel with a nervous little cough.

"Uh… okay. I really need to…" A flick of the wrist in the general direction of her destination, and she was trying to move around him in a wide arc that was almost comical. Or _would_ have been if Warren hadn't found it annoying. He deliberately stepped into her path, causing her to look up at him with the same alarm as before.

"Are you scared of me?" He found himself asking the million-dollar question with a gruffness that was hardly consoling, and vaguely pondered why the issue bothered him so much. Eva Armstrong certainly wasn't the first person to exhibit signs of distrust since he'd taken the post Ms. Powers had practically handed to him on a silver platter. The whole of his first day at Sky High had been spent assuring his classes in an indirect way that his bark was a whole lot worse than his bite. Thankfully, the majority of students had essentially come to feed out of the palm of his hand by the time their hour-long lesson was over. However, there were still a few kids who continued to be wary of him. Probably told a number of tall tales by their parents.

"What?" Eva blinked, confused.

"I said: 'are you scared of me?'"

Her eyes skittered across his face as she considered the inquiry, and Warren felt his irritation flare. It was a simple 'yes' or 'no' answer.

She looked away. "No…"

"Why don't I believe you?"

Her head snapped up, and Warren was surprised to see her scowl. "Because _why_ should I be scared of you?" Before he could list off a number of reasons with his fingers, Eva continued. "You're _Blaze_!" Realising what she'd said, she instantly ducked her head and he could just make out the vivid blush sweeping across her cheeks. "I'm sorry. I didn't…"

Astonishingly, Warren didn't feel any of the fury or gut-wrenching grief that he should have at her misstep, which more than likely had something to do with _how_ it had been broached. Like his heroics were something to be proud of. Like… they were something to be admired. And now he was just plain confused.

Presumably taking his incapacitation as the perfect opportunity for escape, Eva fled with a rushed "thanksforthefreshmanlist" that took him long after she'd disappeared to decipher. This time, he didn't try to stop her, and turned to watch as she scampered away, wondering if he'd ever be able to figure the English teacher out.

_Early days_, he thought with an outward shake of the head. _Early days_.

Then he shook his head some more, wondering why figuring Eva Armstrong out was even an option…

--

As soon as she'd reached home, Eva headed straight up to her bedroom and flung herself back on the bed with a mortified groan. If Warren hadn't already thought she was one card short of a full deck, then he had most certainly added the whitecoats to speed-dial by now. And to top it off, he was probably angry with her. Again.

Eva sighed. It seemed a case of 'one step forward, two steps back' where the Coach was concerned, and if this was going to continue for the remainder of the school year, then Eva suspected she'll be down to the dregs of her sanity by Christmas break. At the very latest.

She groaned again and rolled over so that the sound was muffled by her polka-dot comforter, welcoming the cool of the fabric against her enflamed face. How difficult would it be to work with him now that she'd stuck her foot in it for the second time in so many days? _Hellish_, she concluded, ignoring the subtle shift of the mattress as Tibby made her inevitable entrance. The only thing for it now was to avoid Warren Peace like the plague, until…

Eva tilted her head so that her nose was free to take in some much-needed air. Until when? Until he left? Although she'd thought at first – before seeing him 'in action' – that the chances of Warren hanging around for more than a single academic year were slim, she could now picture him as a member of the school's faculty for an extended period. Possibly until retirement. He just fit, like the empty slot left by Boomer's impromptu resignation was _made_ for him. Which left only one other option. To avoid him until _she_ left.

A furball with a pair of piercing golden eyes entered her line of vision and meowed before sitting and giving her a look that was decidedly unimpressed.

"Just give me another minute to wallow in self-pity, then I'll serve you dinner, okay?" Tibby narrowed her eyes but seemed to get the message, launching herself from the bed to wander until her mistress finally got over her little pout. Eva started idly tracing the outer rim of a turquoise polka-dot while wondering how long she could possibly elude the Coach without incident.

Not long, if their encounters of the day were anything to go by -- which begged the question: what _else_ could she do?

Eva very nearly jumped out of her skin when the phone rang, and managed to knock several items off the nightstand before answering.

"Hello?"

"Hey there, stranger." Kate. Eva found she was relieved to hear her friend's voice. "How was the first day of school?"

Eva settled on honesty. "Confusing and humiliating in equal parts. Yours?" Like Eva herself, Kate had qualified as a High School teacher. In fact, they had chosen the degree together, and had both studied at and graduated from VCSU at the same time. The only difference was that Kate, as a civilian (but completely aware and accepting of Eva's super background), had taken up a post as an English Lit teacher at West Maxville High.

"I think I started tearing my hair out at third period."

Eva grinned. "Third period? That has to be some kind of new record - I don't think you've ever lasted that long. Oh - and if you've torn out enough for a wig, let me know." If there was one feature that made Kate Kendall stand out in a crowd, it was her curly auburn hair, which had a talent of arranging itself into glossy ringlets with limited effort. Eva would gladly trade in her lifeless, mousy locks for her friend's vibrant curls any day. But then again, she wasn't overly fond of the idea of 'standing out in a crowd'. Or not any more than the knowledge of her heritage had provoked throughout the years.

Kate was laughing. "I'll see what I can do." Like most women, she didn't appreciate what others considered a godsend, often resorting to 'taming' her hair with irons. "So. 'Confusion' and 'humiliation' huh? Do tell."

Eva paused only briefly before launching into an account of the day's events, with a prelude on Friday's meeting, and felt at the end of it as though a vice had relinquished its constricting hold on her chest. Her relief only lasted so long.

"Eva has a crush," sang Kate. Eva sighed.

"Not helping."

"Okay, in all seriousness, I think you should forget this whole 'avoidance' thing. I mean, it sounds to me like you won't last ten seconds without running into him – whether _literally_ or _figuratively_."

"But what if--"

"There's no guarantee that he's mad at you," Kate said firmly. "And I think the best course of action is to wait it out. Take note of his facial expressions and body language."

Eva couldn't help but snort. "You realise he's about as difficult to read as a brick wall, right?"

"And yet you're _convinced_ he's angry with you."

_Good point_, Eva inwardly conceded. Out loud, she continued to plead her case. "Well… I _feel_ that he's annoyed."

"And I'm hardly surprised, because you, my dear, could exasperate a 'brick wall' with little to no effort." There came a brief pause where Eva could easily imagine Kate rolling her eyes. "Seriously, Eva. With the way you're acting, the guy's probably more bewildered than anything. Way to make the new addition feel welcome."

Eva felt her gut wrench with guilt. "I… never thought of that," she reluctantly admitted.

"Yeah, well. Listen. I know for a fact that you can be a real minx when you put your mind to it--"

Eva flushed scarlet. "It was _once_. And I'd had too much to drink."

"Sure." There was a smirk in Kate's voice. "So, I think you should make the effort to talk to him like a _real_ person more than the underwear model he is."

"_Kate_!"

"Oh, come _on_! I've seen plenty of pictures. I'm sure if he hadn't settled on Sky High, Gucci would have taken him up in a heartbeat."

Eva suspected her face was now purple more than red. And the worst part was that, having seen him in latex and his Coach's uniform, Warren in boxers alone was no stretch of the imagination.

Kate laughed victoriously. "Ha! Miss Armstrong is speechless."

"Shut up."

"Touché. But teasing aside, you should try talking. Books, maybe?" There came the faint sound of a car horn over the line. "Oh – gotta run. Mark's treating me to a movie and dinner. Although he'll probably want to shoot himself by the end of the night. You know how I get when I'm cranky."

"Oh, I'm sure he knows what he's getting himself into -- the hair colour's warning enough," quipped Eva. There followed some mild bickering before Mark honked for the second time and Kate was forced to hang up.

The remainder of Eva's evening was spent re-reading _Dune_ while worrying her nails to the quick.

--

It wasn't until his hand had closed around a tupperware container of his mother's home-cooked wonton noodle soup that Warren remembered he'd promised to call her. Moments later he was standing over the stove with the phone tucked between his ear and shoulder. She answered almost immediately, and Warren briefly closed his eyes in a silent curse as an image of Imogen Peace sitting vigil by the phone sprang to the forefront of his mind.

"Hey mom."

"Hello sweetheart. You're a lucky one -- it wasn't five seconds ago that I wrapped up a call with Deirdre Wyatt. Something about a knitting society. I zoned out when I first heard 'knitting'. I mean, seriously! I'm an ex-psychiatrist and inactive superheroine -- not to mention a mother! When did I ever have the time to _learn_ how to knit, let alone make anything?"

Warren smiled, feeling a lot better now that he had an explanation for her quick pick-up. "Better late than never," he teased.

"Oh, don't tempt me, unless you _want_ an ugly woollen hat-and-scarf set for Christmas. So. How was your first day?" She chuckled then. "Oh Lord! This takes me back to your first day as a student. You were a nervous wreck – remember?"

Warren glared petulantly down at the bubbling wonton soup and gave it a stir. "I wasn't nervous." Not visibly, anyway. He'd made sure of that. "And today was…" He paused, searching for an appropriate word. Finally, he settled on "interesting".

"Well, I hope you weren't expecting a walk in the park, because teenagers don't make anything easy." There was an edge to her voice, like she knew full well how the kids had reacted to him. How cruel they could be. But Warren Peace was above snide whispers, if only because he'd grown up to the hero community's dark speculations. He'd learned long ago not to rise to the bait. Or as infrequently as he could manage.

He snorted, deliberately making light of his mother's remark. "Believe me – next to some of the villains I've dealt with, the kids were a piece of cake." There was a beat as Warren realised the implication of his words and inwardly berated himself for not thinking before speaking.

"So." Imogen promptly broke the awkward silence. "Can you picture the job as something more than a temporary arrangement?"

If he was completely honest, Warren had enjoyed the experience far more than he'd imagined. He shrugged noncommittally, then spoke into the receiver when he remembered his mother couldn't see. "I don't know. A little early to tell, I guess."

Imogen made a sound of amusement. "Well, a little bird told me you're doing just fine."

"Principal Powers called you?!" Warren missed the bowl, ladling some soup onto the kitchen counter through his alarm.

"I was hardly expecting you to be completely open with me, so Jennifer kindly agreed to fill me in." A pause. "You're not angry, are you?"

Warren shook his head, more to dispel his daze than in answer to his mother's question. He absently grabbed a paper towel to clean up the mess he'd made. "Uh, no…" And he wasn't. Maybe a little annoyed, but that seemed to be the order of the day. "It's just… weird. The two of you talking about me behind my back."

"I'm sorry, honey." The apology sounded genuine enough, but he knew better. Especially when she resumed on an all-too-chipper note. "So. I've also heard you've made some friends." Warren suppressed a groan. Those were the exact same words his mother had casually thrown at him when she'd caught wind of his fledgling friendship with Will Stronghold back during his sophomore year.

"Just some colleagues. And I wouldn't call them 'friends', exactly." He was pretty sure that brief conversation and one or two mutual interests didn't constitute 'friendship'.

"Anyone I know?"

Warren decided to indulge her, knowing she was no more likely to let a subject drop than a ravenous dog would relinquish its hold of a bone. "Uh… Professor Medulla." He stopped, half-hoping the feeble answer was enough to satisfy her curiosity, but had the niggling feeling that she already knew exactly who he'd 'befriended' on his first day. All three of them.

"Anyone else?" Oh, she knew alright.

Warren heaved a silent sigh. "There's the new nurse. Name's Lazarus." He stopped again, for some reason reluctant to mention Eva. Perhaps a little scared that his mother would pick up on the confused vibes the woman had left him with. "And the English teacher. Armstrong. Eva Armstrong."

"Armstrong…" Imogen thoughtfully tested the name. "It's familiar, but…"

"_Faith_ and _Centrix_'s daughter."

"Oh! Yes, of course!" Warren felt something close to panic bubble in his gut at the excitement in his mother's voice. The matchmaker in her had obviously caught the scent of fresh blood, and was closing in on the situation with the stealthy rapidity of a Great White.

"She's not a super," he quickly inserted, and winced as soon as the comment had left his mouth. It had been a desperate grapple for a deterrent – _anything_ to get Imogen's mind off playing Cupid – but made him sound like a chauvinistic pig instead. He steeled himself for a scold. Albeit deserved.

"Warren Gabriel Peace, I raised you better than that."

Warren sighed. "I know, and I'm sorry. There's nothing wrong with Miss Armstrong." He made a point to place significant emphasis on the formal address. "But romance is the last thing I need right now. And besides, I barely know her. I don't think we exchanged more than two words while we were students, and our latest talks haven't exactly been-" He froze, realising he'd said too much.

"'Been' what, sweetheart?" The shark was circling again. Warren spooned a wonton and shoved it in his mouth, delaying the inevitable. Even if only by a handful of seconds.

"Armstrong is… She's been… acting strange."

"'Strange' how?"

Warren thought back to their most recent encounter and shrugged to himself. "Nervous. Constantly blushing. Limited eye-contact…" It was then that the answer came to him, and he couldn't believe he hadn't thought of it earlier. "Oh God. She's a _fan_." He was surprised to hear his mother laugh. Loudly, and less than attractively.

"Oh, Warren. Sometimes I wonder if that skull of yours isn't tritanium-plated."

Warren scowled, spooning another wonton into his mouth. "It makes sense," he defended.

"I can tell you right now that Eva Armstrong is not one of your dedicated followers." There was a pause in which Warren almost expected to hear a drumroll. "She _likes_ you!"

He choked on his soup. "_Excuse_ me?"

"She. Likes. You." Imogen heaved a long-suffering sigh. "Honestly. You just listed off some of the more obvious signs."

"Uh…" Warren was almost positive none of his ex girlfriends had exhibited any of the 'obvious signs' his mother spoke of. But then, he'd always preferred the bolder women who were guaranteed to make the first move. Far less effort on his part. Not that he'd admit such a thing to his own mother. "I really don't think-"

"You should ask her out." As though sensing the protest on the tip of his tongue, Imogen continued in almost the same breath. "It would help take your mind off things."

"Mom. I appreciate what you're doing – I really do – but I don't think now's the best time for me to… get 'involved' with anyone." He heard her take a breath in preparation for what would probably have been a long-winded recital of the benefits of, if not a romantic relationship, then a couple of friendly get-togethers at the very least. He took the opportunity to finish the call. "Look, mom, I have to go – my soup's getting cold." For once, Warren was glad he couldn't heat his meal with a simple touch. He tried not to feel too bad when she made an almost imperceptible sound of disappointment.

"Oh… alright. I'll see you on the weekend, yes?"

Warren muttered an agreement, although the thought of Imogen Peace interrogating him, _in person_, on his love life – or lack thereof – was more than a little terrifying. When he finally settled down to eat his soup at the kitchen table, he found he had no appetite.

--

On the other side of Maxville, Robert Carlisle, president of _Carlisle Enterprises_, entered his high-market condo and made a beeline for the bar as soon as he'd hung up his tailored jacket and toed off his shoes. Today had just been one of those days. Headache-inducing. And as per usual, his remedy was a Scotch. He brought the crystal-cut glass to his lips and grimaced as the liquid burned a path down his throat – a feeling that temporarily subdued the throb behind his eyes.

Following a jaded pause, he turned away from the counter, and almost dropped his drink at what he saw. A figure perched on the windowseat – nothing more than a silhouette against the twilight. Instinctively, and with little care for the identity of the trespasser, Carlisle fired up, allowing the flames to gather in the palm of his free hand.

"Who are you?" he demanded. "How'd you get in here?"

Slowly, deliberately, the stranger rose to his feet, and stepped into the periphery of Carlisle's firelight. The latter's eyes widened.

"You!"

And everything went black.

TBC.

--

A/N: Here's to hoping the length makes up for the wait. 4,633 words, people! -Dances-

My thanks for your reviews, all of which are appreciated. Like, _vastly_. The next chapter should be both awesome, and faster in coming.


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